


Heart Reconnaissance; or, Chickens Can't Fly but They Sure Can Love

by shikachu (ruethereal)



Category: SHINee
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-18
Updated: 2010-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-11 03:54:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/108053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruethereal/pseuds/shikachu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>"Wow, I just...always imagined kissing you like this."</em></p><p><em>"Hyung, that's kind of creepy."</em></p><p><em>"Oh, sorry."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Heart Reconnaissance; or, Chickens Can't Fly but They Sure Can Love

  
Jinki is in love.

Or so his bandmates tell him after cornering him in the practice room as he sits, panting after a particularly brutal rehearsal of Lucifer.  Jinki briefly wonders if this is a hidden camera, what little he knows of love tells him you have to _fall_ into it first.  As clumsy as Jinki is, he can’t for the life of him remember tripping over into this particular sinkhole.  This information earns him a withering glare from Kibum, and Jinki thinks he’s hit a new all time low when _ Jjong_ stares at him like he’s an idiot.

“Hyung, you’re in love with Taeminnie,” Minho clarifies out of sympathy.

Oh, thinks Jinki, this, well this is not entirely impossible.  His heart sommersaults then stumbles and sputters before stopping completely (at least that’s what it feels like) whenever Taemin smiles at anyone else, which is often.  And when the youngest does smile just for him, eyes crinkling into all kinds of adorableness, Jinki sometimes forgets to breathe.  Taemin smiles like he can make the impossible possible, not that he has to try very hard in this case.

With realization settling into Jinki’s eyes, Kibum declares Phase One of his brilliant plan complete.  What plan, Jinki asks and Jjong informs him, in all earnestness, that it’s a collective group effort to Help Jinki-hyung Grow a Pair and Confess to Taeminnie Already, For the Love of God.  Jinki shifts uncomfortably and mutters something about already having “a pair,” thank you very much.

“Oh yeah,” Kibum’s pretty mouth twists into a sneer, “well when’s the last time you used them?”

Jinki blushes an endearing shade of pink.

Phase Two, as it turns out, involves luring Jinki into extremely awkward situations in which Taemin is undressing, panting and sweaty, or just smiling and being so damn _Taemin_, and leaving him there to flounder about helplessly.  Tonight, Minho sends him into their room to fetch something and he is met with a half-naked and very _wet_Taemin who looks like he’s come straight from the showers. 

“Hi Hyung, did you need something?”

Taemin flips his damp hair out of his face, lips curling up slowly in a way that makes Jinki’s heart beat double time.  He isn’t sure where to look, so he settles on the patch of carpet between Taemin’s feet. 

“I, er, Minho said…”

“Are you okay, Hyung?  Your face is all red.”

Taemin reaches out, and fingertips ghost along Jinki’s cheek before he panics.  Quite sure that he won’t be able to able to control himself much longer in Taemin’s state of moist undress, he blurts out, “I was told there would be chicken!” before turning around and bolting in the opposite direction. 

The other three dongsaeng are gathered on the couch, trying not to look amused.  Jinki does what he determines to be the most appropriate in the given circumstances: throws himself on the floor and laments his eternal failure at life.  He tries to remember at exactly what point his leadership failed and his bandmates turned into the Stupid and Evil Butt-monkies from Hell. 

“You’re letting love just pass you by,” Jjong sighs.

“What do you know about love anyways,” Jinki pouts into the carpet.

Jjong loops an arm around Kibum’s waist, wiggling his eyebrows and effectively putting an end to their conversation.

Kibum deems him hopeless and the plan is advanced to Phase Three. 

The Butt-monkies never went into the specifics of Phase Three, but Jinki is fairly sure that he doesn’t like it.  Kibum spends their downtime coddling the youngest, cooing over him, pinching his cheeks, and declaring his undying love for his son.  The role of band umma will always belong to Kibum, but he didn’t have to go _this_ far.

Jinki begins to worry when Jonghyun dubs himself band appa and brings home all of Taemin’s favorite snacks.  Jjong-appa is the best, Taemin grins between fistfulls of cookies and coffee milk.  Well, two could play at that game, and Jinki won’t be bested by parents who are effing _younger_ than him. 

Steak, Jinki decides, will be his way into Taemin’s heart. 

He convinces Manager-hyung to let him throw a barbeque party once they’re through with schedules, at the expense of Kibum who shrieks when he finds out Jinki sold his designer scarves for meat money.  Serves him right. 

Taemin, on the other hand, is delighted.

“What’s the occasion?” he manages through cheeks stuffed with steak and samgyopsal. 

“It’s kind of, you know, since it’s your favorite and all…for you?”

Their eyes meet for a second and Jinki flushes bright red.

“Really?  Jinki-hyung is the best!”

Jinki’s stomach does a sort of half-flip and he falls asleep that night all goofy and love-stricken with Taemin’s words echoing in his dreams.

In spite of his heartfelt endeavors, the self-proclaimed band appa-umma duo won’t let up.  In fact, the following week includes Kibum and Jonghyun hanging off of Taemin’s every word, clinging to him and cuddling on and off the camera.  Kibum goes on and on about his perfect son while Jjong enjoys parading the two around, hand in hand, calling Kibum his wife. 

They even recruit Minho, the only one Jinki believed to be relatively sane.

“I like you Taemin-ah,” Minho states very matter-of-factly and throws in a look of Flaming Charisma for good measure.

“Thanks Minho-hyung, I like you too.”

Taemin beams and Jinki feels his heart constrict.  Satisfied, Minho joins Jonghyun and Kibum who are curled up together in front of some silly American movie. 

This, he supposes, would be Phase Four, where Jinki Finally Decides to Grow a Pair No Thanks to Stupid and Evil Butt-monkies.  (“Married Butt-monkies,” Jjong corrects, burying his face into Kibum’s neck, and for once, the band umma can only smile.)  After all, the worst Taeminnie could do was pull an “I like you too, hyung, we’re best friends aren’t we?” accompanied by an innocent smile, perhaps killing Jinki’s pride but hopefully leaving his heart intact. 

It takes two days, five orders of fried chicken, a heart-to-heart with Jjong of all people, and an embarrassing call to his mother for Jinki to finally pluck up the courage.  The other members had the decency to clear out of the house, dragging their manager along with promises of free food and all night noraebang.  He finds Taemin in the living room, practicing the choreo to Miss A’s latest single.

“Special stage, or do you just want to show up your beloved umma next time we’re on Star King?”

Taemin has an easy laugh, one that reminds Jinki of endless summer afternoons spent lazing around with his band (family, brothers, keepers of his heart – what have you) with iced tea, Roo, and a watermelon.

“Oh you know, just messing around.  Don’t tell umma, he’s been going on about private lessons or something.”

They share a laugh, though Jinki’s is more of a nervous trembling escaping through his mouth. 

“Hyung.”

Taemin’s voice is soft, shy and gentle like a whisper on his heart. 

Jinki is having trouble finding his words.  He wants to tell Taemin that it’s his smile that lights up the sky and paints the clouds orange, that every time they perform Lucifer, Taemin’s absolute command of the audience, the glint in his eyes, leaves Jinki in a daze, and not to be creepy, but does he always look that content when he falls asleep on other people’s shoulders?  Because the thought that he might make Taemin happy makes Jinki’s heart swell. 

“Jinki-hyung?”

Taemin’s eyes are questioning.  Jinki has no words, so he does what he determines to be the most appropriate in the given circumstances: he grabs Taemin and mashes their lips together.  It’s messy, with more teeth than necessary, but Taemin is soft and yielding.  Their tongues meet and a shiver runs through Jinki’s body, felt even in the shaking fingertips he’s threading through Taemin’s hair and warmth pools in his stomach.

He presses Taemin up against the wall, hearing his breath hitch into their kiss.  Jinki is all nerves and desperation, hands pressing into Taemin’s waist for his own support more than anything else.  He thumbs the sharp jut of the other’s hip before tentatively dipping his fingers below the waistband of Taemin’s sweats. 

“Ah!  Hyung, wait.  Jinki-hyung, I-”

Jinki silences him, tongue pushing almost forcefully back into his dongsaeng’s mouth.  Out of the many outcomes he imagined, this is by far one of the better, but he can’t take the possibility of Taemin rejecting him when it’s so real.  The ache in his chest promises to consume him if they stop now.   Taemin’s gaze is hazy, filled with lust and confusion under heavy lids.  It’s pure need that drives Jinki’s hand down Taemin’s pants, beneath his boxers to find him already hot and hard in his palm.  His strokes are gentle and fumbling, encouraged by Taemin panting against his neck, and soon the other is thrusting into his hand made slick by sweat and precome.  He trails kisses along Taemin’s jaw and down his neck, desperation fading to tenderness.  Taemin’s hand finds his, lacing their fingers together and Jinki revels in the feeling, thinking that it might be a ‘yes’ to the question he’s been pressing silently into Taemin, over and over again, with his lips.  Do you want to stay with me, count the days spent in each other’s arms, see just how much of forever we can see, together?

Inexperience has Taemin spilling into Jinki’s hand in minutes, with a trembling and breathless whimper muffled into his shoulder.  Taemin spends a shaking moment against him, gasping heavily against his neck.  But as Jinki’s heart slows he begins to sense something wrong in the way his dongsaeng’s breathing has gone raw and ragged at the edges.  He brings a hand up gingerly to cup Taemin’s cheek and it takes him a beat to realize why his fingers are wet.

“Are you, are you crying?”

Why is he crying?  Oh god, he couldn’t have…it wasn’t _that_ bad right?

“What’s wrong?” Jinki whispers, lips against golden brown locks. 

When Taemin finally looks up, his eyes are spilling over with so much sorrow and hurt that Jinki’s heart plummets into his stomach.  While his mind races to figure out what he could have possibly done wrong, Taemin blinks out a few more tears before abruptly punching him in the face.  

Jinki staggers back, head reeling, but it’s nothing compared to the pain that is his heart threatening to rip right out of his chest.  By the time he’s oriented himself, Taemin is gone.  The sound of their bedroom door slamming echoes heartwrenchingly around the empty apartment and Jinki realizes his nose is bleeding.  With Taemin’s come dripping pathetically from his right hand and a familiar sting in the back of his eyes, he considers sinking into the carpet and letting it all leak out until there’s nothing left. 

But then again, no one would be there to pick up the pieces. 

The dorm seems to be in a permanent state of gloom.  Without Taemin’s ever-present smile, Jinki feels lost and lifeless.  He’s never been this long without the other boy’s laughter.  (Jjong once confronted the youngest about being a robot as the only two emotional states he exhibited were happy and sleepily happy.  To prove a point, he stole Taemin’s half-cooked ramyun off the stove and devoured it, only to receive a giggling, “That was for Minho-hyung anyways,” and a very sore stomach later that night.) 

Kibum has taken to throwing him dirty looks whenever they’re in the same room.  Jonghyun, of course, takes his wife’s side in the matter, but offers Jinki apologetic half-shrugs throughout their coupled silent treatment.  Jinki doesn’t know why they’re making him out to be the bad guy when all he wants to do is cry.

The only one who stays carefully neutral through the whole affair is Minho, though his shoulder is entirely too high to cry on.  Jinki settles for love advice.

“I don’t exactly know what’s going on.”

Jinki thinks he’s gone to great lengths to keep it that way.

“But I think you should just talk to Taeminnie.”

Which would have been a perfectly reasonable suggestion if Kibum-umma ever let his son out of his sight.  For all three attempts he made at trying to catch Taemin alone, Kibum rushed into the room, dragging the youngest out with some excuse or another, throwing Jinki a ball-shrinking glare if there ever was one.  Jinki is reduced to moping around (out of Kibum’s sight) and a sort of forlorn wailing whenever people ask what’s wrong.  Today, Minho takes sympathy on him and bribes Jjong to provide a distraction.  A muffled groan from the bathroom says Minho’s bought him twenty minutes, at least. 

Taemin is in their bedroom, eyes closed, earphones in, and lips turned down in a way that clashes unnaturally with his delicate features.  Jinki crosses the room silently and tugs at one of Taemin’s earphones. 

Taemin’s eyes blink open.

“Hyung.”

His expression softens, only for a second, then turns completely livid as he backs himself into the bed frame like he’s being cornered.  Jinki feels himself breaking in Taemin’s eyes. 

“Taemin-ah,” he swallows painfully, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re…sorry?”  Taemin lets the words sit uncomfortably between them.  “Sorry?  Sorry that I wasn’t some idiot airhead girl that would just let you fuck her?  Are you going to try to kiss me just to get into my pants again?  Or tell me that you regret it, that we should just pretend nothing ever happened so we can all be one big happy fucking family again?” 

Taemin chokes on a sob and Jinki will never forgive himself for making the boy cry again.  He’s so rushed to fix everything his words trip on themselves as they race out of his mouth.

“I only, I mean, I’m not sorry.  I am sorry.  But only for making you cry.  And I only did…you know..because I thought you wanted it too and I didn’t want...I couldn’t stand the thought of _not_ being with you.  And I’m an asshole but all I want to do is hold your hand and watch your eyes light up every time Jjong does something ridiculous or when you spit those stupid Styrofoam things in my face because, because I think I’m in love with you.”

Silence.  He waits for a reaction and is granted one slightly cocked eyebrow.

“You think?”

“Am fairly sure?” Jinki offers, drawing closer to weave fingers through Taemin’s hair and curl them around the back of his neck.  “I love you.  And, I’m going to kiss you now,” he breathes, “if that’s okay.”

It’s languid and sweet and everything that should have been their first kiss.  Taemin is warm and citrus-flavored sunshine as Jinki explores his mouth.  He pulls the younger boy down on the bed with him and rolls them over.  Taemin’s weight is pressing fully against him and he brings his hands to clasp around Taemin’s back.  They kiss until Jinki is dizzy for lack of breathing.

“Wow,” he sighs, “I just…always imagined kissing you like this.”

“Hyung, that’s kind of creepy.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Taemin laughs and, for the first time in days, Jinki joins him.

“And if you really wanted me to top, you should have just said so.”

Jinki’s flush reaches his hairline. 

“H-how does dinner sound to you?  We could get barbeque?”

“Chicken?” Taemin proposes.

They settle for ice cream, at Kibum’s expense of course, and rush a melting carton home to Minho who takes it, muttering something about being a part of a circus and calling Donghae.  After enduring Kibum’s fuming comments about ungrateful children and, Where’s my ice cream when it was my brilliant plan in the first place goddammit, Jinki settles into bed.  It isn’t until the lights are out and he’s drifting that the warmth of his covers is replaced with legs tangling with his and fingers curling into his shirt.  He can see Taemin smiling, even in the dark.   

The next morning, when Jinki rubs the morning haze out of his eyes, he discovers a still-slumbering Taemin, sprawled out on the covers and hogging his pillow.  His cheeks hurt and logic tells him it’s probably from grinning in his sleep.

“I love you.”

A kiss to the nose.

Taemin snuggles closer and mutters a, “Mmlove you too, hyung,” against his chest.

Jinki folds the younger boy into his arms, smiles and counts, One.


End file.
